A Conversation Within Empty Space
by Mokyn
Summary: There was absolutely nothing around. It wasn’t like he was surrounded by only black or white, or any of those clichéd images. That would have at least been something.


This is slightly AU to accommodate for the plotbunny that lost control. It's only about an extra day into the movie's timeline, but I feel I should say that so people aren't confused.

* * *

There was absolutely nothing around.

It wasn't like he was surrounded by only black and white, or any of those clichéd images. That would have at least been _something_, but he had the feeling that if he were to recall this later he would only be able to remember himself isomewhere/i.

The black-and-white striped doll started walking, or at least going through the motions of walking. He was sure he wasn't going anywhere, but he kept his feet moving.

After awhile, the doll found the silence unbearable and began humming a simple tune. Soon, his voice taut with the nervous wonder of the unknown, he sang to this same tune, though whether the words came from his own head or from a memory, he didn't know.

__

"I sit beside the fire and think

Of people long ago,

And people who will see a world

That I shall never know.

But all the while I sit and think

Of times there were before,

I listen for returning feet

And voices at the door."

As his song trailed off, he found himself listening for something, anything that would prove he wasn't stuck here by himself.

"Hello?" he called out. "Is anybody here?"

There was only silence. He stopped and instinctively gripped the key that hung from a ring around his neck. The key was almost as big as him and made from thick, blackened metal. Though it gave him a hunched posture, he found the weight reassuring.

"Well this is just great," he muttered. "I've been in some weird places before, but at least there was something to look at, like dirt and dead trees and probably a million other things that start with 'd'. This is just-"

A polite clearing of a throat came from behind him to interrupt him. He spun around, expecting a machine or something just as deadly, but breathed a sigh of relief as his eyes took in what was in front of him.

A middle-aged man was standing comfortably in the nothing, his hands in the pockets of his rumpled lab coat. One hand came out to readjust the glasses on his nose. The doll noticed the man had no color to him, he appeared like a black-and-white photo, except with more clarity. It made sense to the doll; after all, this man had died years ago.

The man gave him a nervous smile. "It's good to see you again, Six."

The doll walked closer to his creator, who kneeled in front of him, though there was still a significant gap between their heights.

"It sure has been awhile." Six said as he peered up. "Are you the reason I'm here?"

The man nodded. "I wanted to talk to you."

Six looked around. "You could have picked a more interesting place than this."

The man looked around as well, as if he had gotten used to his surroundings and couldn't see what was wrong with them.

Within an instant, there was land to stand on and look at. Gently sloping hills were covered with trees so thick was leaves, it set Six's mind to fairy tale illustrations. He shuffled his feet through the grass and clover, wanting to remember everything looking so colourful and alive. He turned around, taking it all in, and stopped.

In front of him was the city he lived in, but it wasn't the same at all. He could see the wall that surrounded the city, and the cathedral sitting at the highest point, but all the houses still stood, and Six could swear he heard people laughing.

He didn't like the feeling the view gave him, like he was seeing something so familiar and foreign all at once. He turned his attention to the clover in front, looking for a lucky one.

"You haven't really introduced yourself, you know." He said to the man standing behind him. "You know everything about me, but I don't know anything about you. What's your name?"

For a moment there was silence, and Six was afraid he was alone again until the answer came.

"Bill Door."

"That's not a name!"

"Well, neither is Six!" The doll continued in his search for a four-leaf clover, moving through the areas that had turned up empty. The man followed his creation with the slow steps like that of a parent, occasionally looking off into the distance as he spoke. "There was nothing to stop you from naming yourselves. The only reason I gave you numbers is because I didn't know how far I could push my luck, and I didn't want to keep coming up with names."

"So why'd you make us?"

A moment of hesitation, with nothing but moving and following. "To atone for my sins. I pushed the boundaries of science and nature too far. There is only one person who can create something from nothing, and people don't like it when you try to play God."

Six stopped and looked up at the man. "Could you speak sense and not in riddles?"

The scientist didn't look at him, instead stared at the hills in the distance. His voice had something in it that Six could only think of describing as regret. "I'd rather not. I've already said more than I'm comfortable remembering."

Six looked in the same direction, and saw trees moving in the breeze. He figured it would fade before it reached him.

"But you created this place. That was from nothing."

"No, this is the city I remember from my childhood. Before the war and before the factory was built. Before everything went wrong."

Six resumed his search. "You said you wanted to talk, but you're not saying anything. In the present, a few people went to this factory and now we've got a big machine chasing after us."

The man sighed. "I was afraid that would happen. But you must never give up hope. You were all a way for life to continue, and I know you can find a way to survive like we couldn't."

Six jumped at the ground, thinking he had seen a four-leaf clover, but his shoulders drooped as he realized it had only been two plants growing close together.

The man picked Six up roughly around the waist, and set the doll in the palm of his hand.

"You have to pay attention, Six." He said. But then his expression changed from stern to as if he had only just noticed something that had been in front of him the entire time.

Six leaned back as the man's fingers moved to the key around his neck.

"Where did you get this?" the man asked, though Six heard something in the tone, as if he already knew the answer to his question.

"I-I found it." Six answered, cursing himself for the stutter. Why was he scared? This person in front of him was non-corporeal, unable to harm him. But he had created the doll, and his mechanical heart that was beating so fast, and if his creator was mad at him, it was worse than any physical pain Six could endure.

"You mean you stole it."

"It was just lying on the floor, a-and I didn't think you'd be using it. And it looked nice, so I thought I would just borrow it-"

"Okay, Six, that means you stole it."

Six pushed the hand away and crossed his arms. "You're one to talk about morals. You feel so guilty about something you won't even talk about it."

The scientist inhaled deeply and exhaled, a pressure valve. Six felt no breeze on his face despite the close proximity, reminding him again that he was communicating with a spirit.

"Yes, you're right. I suppose it doesn't matter if you have this key. It's just that I have had stolen from me before, and this recalled things I would rather forget."

Six uncrossed his arms, a grin on his face as if the previous moment was forgiven and forgotten. "Now we're getting somewhere!" He exclaimed. "So, Billy, what was stolen from you? What happened to the world?"

The man's expression was stern again. "I know gave you a fake name, but I'd prefer you not call me that. And I've already told you, I don't want to remember."

Six couldn't stop his voice from coming out as a childish whine. He was bored and tired and he wanted to go home, where people said what they had to say. "Then why'd you bring me here? It's bad enough I came in the middle of nothing, but now you keep telling me you want to say something, and you won't talk about it, and I want to know why not."

"Fine. You want to know why I created you, why the world is now devoid of natural life? Because I was curious, and everything that happened and may soon happen is my fault!"

The world was silent except for a breeze that rustled the trees nearby. Six could think of nothing in reply. He still didn't know anything about the scientist, but what he'd said reminded him of Nine, his friend who now lived every moment trying to fix a mistake he had made.

No one deserved to feel that way.

"What about us?" Six whispered.

The man blinked, perplexed. "What about you?"

"You created us. We're a lot like you, we move and think the same way. We live..." Six stopped, suddenly realizing why the man didn't want to speak his memories. "...We die."

The man's face softened, and he placed two fingers on Six's head, ruffling the threads there. "I gave you a body, but what makes you so like me, the soul in you, I couldn't create that."

"I don't understand."

"It's like alchemy." Seeing six's face, he explained, "It's an old science I was once interesting in learning about. The basic principle behind it was that you couldn't truly create something, only change it. The lead still came from the earth before it was turned to gold."

Six still didn't truly understand, but he tried. "The machine that's chasing us, it can make other machines too. It steals out souls."

"You've seen it?"

Six fiddled with the ring that held the key. He found he couldn't raise his voice above a whisper, and he didn't know why. "I'm not sure. Sometimes, I see things that aren't there. Like now. I keep telling myself this isn't real, but it feels like it is."

"Reality is what you make of it, I suppose."

Six smiled. The sentence would have meant nothing to anyone else, but to him, it was what he needed to hear. The man bent to the ground and set Six back on the grass. In the city, church bells chimed the hour.

"This machine can create others of its kind, but it does not have a soul. That's how you will all win in the end." The man said.

Something had been nagging at the back Six's mind for a while, and he decided now would be a good time to ask about it. "You said something like that before. Why do you think we'll be able to win?"

The man shrugged. "Because I hope you will, and hope is all I have."

Six took one last look at the world living around him. It was amazing how much could be within what was once empty space.

"I should head back." He said.

The man smiled nervously, looking the same as he had when 6 first saw him. "It was good to see you again."

Six was just about to tell himself it was time to wake up, but stopped. He asked. "Can you still call me Six?"

"You're not going to give yourself a name?"

He shook his head. "My name is Six. That's how you know me, and that's enough."

The man was silent again, though he didn't seem sad anymore; to Six, he seemed somehow proud. "Well then, Six, I wish you luck."

And then Six was back home. He ran to the nearest window and looked outside. He hadn't expected to see anything different, but the ruins held something more to him now.

Just as a world could come from nothing, a world could be reduced to nothing.

As he stared at the dark beauty of everything, he sang quietly to himself.

__

"But all the while I sit and think

Of times there were before,

I listen for returning feet

And voices at the door."

He heard footsteps come behind him. He turned to see Nine behind him, smiling at his antics.

"What are you doing, Six?" he asked.

Six looked out the window once more and stepped away before he said, "Just hoping we'll win."

Nine walked up beside him. "That's all we have to go on."

Six giggled. "I'm going to call you Bill Door from now on."

Nine exclaimed, "That's not a name!"

Six only laughed. This was his reality, and he was happy to know that he was helping to change it.

* * *

This story kind of died by the end, but I liked the idea so I kept going with it. Kudos to whoever can get the Bill Door reference! The odd name was what started me on this idea, so it seemed horrible if I wouldn't have kept it in somehow. The poem is from Lord of the Rings Fellowship of the Ring by J.R.R Tolkien.

Reviews are always welcome, especially if you found any problems with this. I still have a long way to go until I reach the level of writing i want to, and I won't get there without some tough constructive criticism.


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